


Pepsi Ice Cucumber Love

by Rainbowrites



Series: Month of Friendship [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Food, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 15:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbowrites/pseuds/Rainbowrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They just sit and eat together and pretend that they didn’t nearly sacrifice themselves for each other. It’s not something that translates all that easily to every day life.</p><p>prompt: Erica + Boyd "Lunch"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pepsi Ice Cucumber Love

They don’t really talk. When Boyd said that he wanted someone to sit with at lunch, he was very literal. He doesn’t need them to talk to him, in fact in most cases he’d prefer they didn’t. People can be such dumbasses.

But she sits with him, especially after Isaac starts circling McCall and Stiles like a satellite. It shouldn’t feel like abandonment, but it aches in Erica’s side like a wound, like the pull of an arrow as she ripped it out of her chest and watched as it healed without a single mark. That still frightens her sometimes. That there isn’t any mark left. That there will never be any marks left from now on. Her skin is perfect, and she never thought that that could be a bad thing until now.

So they just sit and eat together and pretend that they didn’t nearly sacrifice themselves for each other. It’s not something that translates all that easily to every day life.

“Here.”

Erica raises one (perfect) eyebrow at the Coke can. Boyd looks at her impassively.

“What,” she curls her lip, “think I can’t afford my own coke?”

He snorts. “Have you seen me? If anything, you should be giving me your food.”

She just shrugs and chugs it without a word. Her mom had kept her a strict diet, to try and keep her seizures to a minimum. She’d never been allowed caffeine. The first thing she’d done after being turned was to go drink a 2-liter bottle of Coca Cola. She has a sneaking suspicion Boyd knows that. He likes knowing random shit about people so he can mention it in conversation and freak people out. She respects that about him.

It turns into a game, where he’ll give her a different soda everyday. Sometimes it’s something weird as hell, like this Japanese soda that looks like jizz, and sometimes it’s just a different flavor of Fanta.

She licks around the straw on the 25th day (Pepsi Ice Cucumber) and asks him, “So is this some kind of courting thing for werewolves?” She stares up at him from below her (perfect) eyelashes, “Instead of bringing me dead rabbits you bring me soda? Because if you wanted to fuck, you didn’t have to go through all that.” She trails a (perfect) nail along the delicate skin of his wrist, and listens to his heartbeat. She can barely hear it through the awkward stilt of her own heart.

Boyd rolls his eyes and flicks her hand away.

She feels the soda boiling in her gut. “Why?” She challenges, “Because I’m not  _good_  enough for you?" 

He raises an eyebrow at her. “I wouldn’t have gone for you before the bite, so why would I go for you now?”

She snorts, and gestures eloquently down at herself. 

He smiles down at the sandwich that she’d shoved at him when she sat down (“Need to keep your strength up if you’re ever to out broody silence Derek, don’t you?”), and repeats himself, adding, “If I wanted you, it would be because you could gut a man and then go back home and make dinner for your mom. You could do that before, although,” he allows, “you’d have had to take the extra time to go get a knife.”

Because she doesn’t quite know what to say to that, she just sips her Pepsi Ice Cucumber and plots about how many red-hot chili peppers she’ll be able to put in the next sandwich before he admits defeat and tries to steal his soda back. It’s not quite diving in front of an arrow to save his life, but being pack means more than just being willing to die for them. 

Erica decides that next time she’s slipping a couple of habaneros in there, and cackles, flashing him a wild grin of fanged teeth and bright red lips. Boyd watches her with an equal mix of affection, amusement, and  _you are so fucking crazy why am I friends with you_. The soda’s warm by the time they finish, Boyd takes his time with his food, but she carries it with her anyway.


End file.
